


don't you want me, baby?

by Lint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 22:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: “Right,” she states bluntly. “Because it's every girl's dream to be a delinquent biker chick's gun moll.”





	don't you want me, baby?

A hand shakes her shoulder, jarring Toni awake, who rolls to her side with a sharp intake of breath. She blinks exactly three times, gathering her bearings, eyes focusing against the dark and to Sweet Pea's face hovering above her.

 

“Wake up,” he commands, though quietly, taking into account that Toni isn't sleeping alone. “We gotta go.”

 

Taking another breath, she nods, sitting up and looking down to her companion. Cheryl doesn't even stir at the movement, and Toni shoots a quick glance back at Sweet Pea.

 

“Wait for me outside, I'll be ready in a minute.”

 

For a moment he looks confused, she never having made such a request before, the issue of her getting dressed in front of him one that's never been between them. He looks past her to Cheryl, brows furrowing, but nods and leaves the room.

 

Toni nudges Cheryl's sleeping form. Then does it again when the girl groans but doesn't open her eyes.

 

“Hey,” she begins, leaning down to where her lips are just above the redhead's ear. “I have to go take care of something. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

 

If Cheryl hears her, she gives no indication, and Toni shifts to throw her legs over the mattress when a hand shoots out and grabs her wrist.

 

“Don't die.”

 

The statement brings an odd smile to her face.

 

“No promises.”

 

-

 

Sweet Pea is leaning on his bike, arms folded in waiting, when Toni walks down the steps slipping her jacket on. He has an expectant look on his face.

 

“What?”

 

He nods toward the window of her room.

 

“I think you can do better.”

 

Toni just rolls her eyes.

 

“That's not up to you.”

 

Twenty minutes later, she has the blade of her knife pressed against the neck of a curse spewing Ghoulie, and feels bored to death by the violence. Wishing she was still back in bed, cuddled up with her not girlfriend.

 

/\

 

Toni sits on Cheryl's plush couch, flipping through the pages of a book left atop the table, while the girl in question is inside the kitchen making them tea. Something the help used to do, apparently. The statement of times past only drawing a dismissive cluck of Toni's tongue, while Cheryl insisted she could make do.

 

On the page, Yeats is droning on about some happy Sheppard, when Cheryl enters the room with a massive tray in hand.

 

“Problem?” she asks off Toni's look.

 

“So very posh,” Toni comments, pointing her pinkie in the air.

 

Cheryl ignores her sarcasm, setting the tray on the table in front of them, then taking the pot to pour two cups that look ridiculously expensive.

 

“How do you take it?” Cheryl asks.

 

“Usually in an old coffee cup,” she answers, which actually makes Cheryl laugh.

 

“I meant,” Cheryl begins, grabbing a pair of tongs and grabbing a sugar cube from another little pot in the set. “One sugar, or two? Cream or no?”

 

Toni is honestly confused.

 

“In tea?”

 

Cheryl laughs again, but this time Toni can hear the judgment trickling underneath.

 

“Just lemon then,” Cheryl answers for her, procuring a slice resting on a saucer next to the sugar, and dropping it into a cup before finally passing it over.

 

“I wonder how the Queen is doing,” Toni mutters, halfway to herself.

 

Cheryl shakes her head and sighs, before dropping a single sugar cube into her own cup, then adding a splash of cream.

 

“You,” she starts, pausing to blow carefully onto her tea. “Are so adorable.”

 

It's patronizing as hell, but Toni doesn't comment on it, copying Cheryl by blowing onto her own tea.

 

/\

 

Toni flips the draft handle back once she finishes the pour, slides the beer across the bar to Southpaw, who accepts with a thankful nod and heads for the pool table. The Whyte Wyrm is jumping on a Saturday night, as she sets up a round of shots, feeling the phone go off in her pocket again. Pulling it out for a quick check, the message brings a lingering smile to her lips.

 

Cheryl is surprisingly unabashed about sending dirty texts her way, bold claims of what she wants and plans to do, the next time they hook up. Sweet Pea is sitting on a stool watching, eyebrow arched at her, as she shoves the phone back into her pocket.

 

“Got something to say?” she asks, pulling the towel from her shoulder, and wiping down a glass.

 

“That still going on?” he asks, though the answer is obvious.

 

“Yeah,” Toni gives. “That a problem?”

 

Sweet Pea shrugs.

 

“You can do better.”

 

It's not the first time he's said that. Nor the second. Or the third.

 

“If this mythical person actually exists,” she starts, setting the glass down with a bang. “Then please, oh please, won't you tell me their name?”

 

Sweet Pea has nothing to say to that.

 

“What about you, Jones?” she asks, turning her attention to Jughead, also sitting at the bar with his laptop in front of him. “Since my love life seems to be the hot topic of conversation tonight, have you got anything to add?”

 

“None of my business,” he replies, never taking his eyes from the screen.

 

She shoots a look to Sweet Pea off the statement, silently conveying that it should apply to him too, and he just shakes his head before tapping a finger on the bar then  moving off toward the pinball machine.

 

The phone goes off in her pocket again, but this time she doesn't reach for it.

 

/\

 

Toni's never felt satin sheets before.

 

But two seconds after slipping between them in Cheryl's bed, it's decided she's a fan. She's also a pretty big fan of just how easy it is to leave traces along that pale skin. How one scratch, one bite, and Cheryl's clearly marked. The red flushing along to any trail Toni wants to leave upon her. (Sometimes, it feels with the way Cheryl responds to any affection Toni gives, that she's starved for it. Clinging so desperately to anything offered.)

 

Furthermore, she's pretty fond of the way Cheryl seems to know all the delicate spots along her body on instinct. How she teases and tantalizes. How she whispers _good girl_ into Toni's ear any time she makes a sound the redhead approves of.

 

Toni hisses when Cheryl's fingers go all the way down, those maple scented lips kissing along her jaw.

 

“You're so pretty,” she says over and over, the words matching each stroke of her hand, until Toni's eyes roll back and the wave comes crashing down.

 

/\

 

Sweet Pea rides up, just as Cheryl pulls out of the drive, giving her that same look he always does when seeing them together. Propping his bike onto the kickstand, he leaves the helmet on the seat, moving to take one next to her on the steps in front of the house.

 

“If you say I can do better one more time,” she warns. “I will punch that handsome face.”

 

He laughs, even with the knowledge it's a serious threat.

 

“Does she make you happy?”

 

It's a simple enough question, but hell if Toni knows how to answer. The whole situation is far more complicated than she would like. To the outside world, nothing between them seems to have changed at all. They still bicker and fight nearly every day at school. Sticking to their roles as polar opposites. No one, except for Sweet Pea and Jughead, have a clue they're remotely involved at all. (Even then, Cheryl only allows that because she knows they're the only two people in Riverdale who will never say anything.)

 

“Kind of,” she finally replies.

 

Sweet Pea snorts a laugh.

 

“Sounds like love to me.”

 

She elbows him in the ribs.

 

“Does it really matter?”

 

He shrugs, looking like he wants to say more, but won't.

 

“What?”

 

The look in his eyes is so serious, her pulse nearly jumps, and for a moment she really doesn't want to know what he's got to say.

 

“That girl,” he starts, jutting a thumb to where Cheryl's car had driven off minutes ago. “Is going to break your heart.”

 

/\

 

It's still unclear, just how she and Cheryl end up pushing aside the living room table, and dancing around on the hardwood floor to a playlist downloaded off Spotify. It might have something to do with the two bottles of wine, leftover from brighter days Cheryl said, they'd gone through in less than an hour. Though she's used to the hard stuff when it comes to underage drinking, the wine seems to go straight to her head in a way whiskey never has.

 

Both of them giggle wildly, as they stumble their way through an attempt at a tango, nearly falling to the ground several times in this inebriated state. Kisses are slow and sloppy, limbs tangled with their movement, and Toni wonders if she'll ever grow tired of the way Cheryl Blossom tastes.

 

Eventually their dancing winds down to passive spins in place, Cheryl's head falling to Toni's shoulder, the ever growing something between them felt in the moment by each.

 

“Stay tonight?” Cheryl asks quietly.

 

For a second Toni isn't sure she head correctly, having never been asked before, despite the few times Cheryl ended up in her bed down on the Southside. Her mother must not be coming home tonight. Not that it has anything to do with-god-she's thinking too much.

 

“Okay,” she accepts.

 

Cheryl sighs content against her, spinning one more time as the last song plays.

 

/\

 

Toni's knuckles are bruised.

 

As is the side of her cheek, accompanied by a cut that thankfully doesn't need stitches. A few teeth feel loose inside her mouth, and she knows a black eye will be coming along nicely. The pick up of slight of hand goods didn't go exactly as planned, ambushed by the Ghoulies in retaliation for the Serpents show of force a few weeks ago, brawling their way out and barely making it alive.

 

Cheryl presses an ice pack as gingerly as she can against Toni's swollen face, who hisses against the sudden cold and pain of injury, eyes pinching shut.

 

“You look a fright,” Cheryl says, grabbing Toni's hand to hold up the pack on her own.

 

The statement seems redundant with how she feels, but nods in agreement.

 

“Comes with the territory,” she manages to say.

 

“I see,” Cheryl detracts. “Is this going to be a regular thing then? Me tending to your wounds after you show up late and bleeding for our-”

 

She cuts herself off before saying _date_. What's going on between them still hasn't been discussed at any point, but Toni thinks the question itself is indicative of this being more than some casual fling. Her eyes open to genuine concern on Cheryl's face.

 

“If you can handle that.”

 

Cheryl's lips curl into a sneer.

 

“Right,” she states bluntly. “Because it's every girl's dream to be a delinquent biker chick's gun moll.”

 

That makes Toni laugh, which brings on a fresh surge of ache, but Cheryl is not having it.

 

“This is not funny,” she hisses, tears suddenly stinging her eyes.

 

Toni stops immediately.

 

“Hey,” she begins, reaching for Cheryl's hand, glad that she doesn't pull away. “Tonight was rough, that much is obvious, but it's not always like this.”

 

Cheryl numbly nods.

 

“But if you can't deal with that, maybe we should just-”

 

“Shut up,” Cheryl interrupts. “We are not ending this. Not when we finally-” She stops herself again.

 

Toni squeezes her hand.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Cheryl brushes a tear away with her free hand.

 

“Not when we're finally getting somewhere.”

 

That makes Toni smile, doing her best not to wince with the pain in her teeth, as she brings Cheryl's hand to her mouth and presses a kiss against the skin.

 

“Don't cry baby,” she says tenderly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

 

 


End file.
